Dialogue, the worst thing you've ever done, without the worst thing youve ever done

The kid lives three houses away. Tom and Mary live in the house on the corner. Tom calls it her corner office but she doesn’t think that’s funny anymore. He doesn’t think its funny anymore either.
Tom walks down the stairs in pajamas.
“I made eggs,” Mary says. She is sitting at the kitchen table in a floral print dress. Her skin is pale. Her hair is completely gray but the rest of her looks young.
“Breakfast of champions,” he says
“I thought that was Wheaties.”
“I thought it was a shitty book.”
She laughs a little, not like she used to. “Anyway, they’re in the fridge.”
He grabs a cup of coffee and opens the kitchen shades. The light hits the sink; it’s been polished over night. He sits at the table with his coffee. “Where’s the paper?”
“They left it around back this morning.”
“Did they?”
“Do you want some toast to go with your eggs?”
“Sure,” he says, “thanks.”
He brings the paper back and Mary’s standing over the toaster watching it. “I don’t know why you want to read about corn prices anyway.”
“It’s where we are now,” he says
“Yah, well, the eggs are in the fridge.”
He puts down the paper and grabs the plates from the cupboard. He opens the fridge, there are seventeen boiled eggs lined up there.
“The ones on the left were in eight minutes, the ones in the middle were in ten, and the ones on the right are twelve.”
“Yah, I can see the numbers on them.”
“He was blinking his light again last night.”
“I figured,” he said.
“It’s not Morse code,” she said
“No?”
“No.”
“Look, I’m going to go to work,” he said.
“Ok.”
“You should get some sleep.”
“Pack some eggs for lunch,” she said.
“Yah. How’s your chest?”
“It’s tight but it’s almost clean, I got it almost clean last night.”
“I can tell.” He looked at the sink.
“Don’t get worked up Tom.”
Tom laughed, “Yah, I wouldn’t want to over react or anything would I.”
“And don’t get mean,” she said this in a quieter voice, looking down into her coffee.
I know, sorry.” Tom looked out the window at the hills of cornfields. “Look, I’m sorry about it all. Maybe we should move back.”
“You know we shouldn’t,” she said
“Yah, I know.”
They were silent for a minute, sitting. Tom blew at the steam coming off his coffee cup. Then he looked at her. “No, I don’t know, why shouldn’t we leave.”
“It won’t change anything,” she said. “It will still all be here, he’ll still be here.”
Tom stood up and stepped around behind his chair. He rested his hands on the top of it and looked at the table. “Yah, but we won’t be here and that’s got to count for something.”
“I think I can do something here,” she said. “I just need a little time.”
“Jesus, it’s eating you up, you don’t sleep, you don’t eat, your labeling the god damn eggs based on how long they were cooked, you see that? I’m walking around on eggshells around here because I don’t want to tell you you’re really flipping your shit on this one.” His knuckles are white as he grips the top of the chair.
“Do you feel better now?” She looks at him and smiles, “how long have been waiting to say that to me?”
“Look, I didn’t mean that.”
She made eye contact with him. “Yes, you did. I need you to say things like that to me, can you see that?”
“I didn’t just want to move here for peace and quite, you know that.” He said
“I know, and I wanted it too, maybe not forever, but for a while. We were getting worn down.”
“I was so worried about you.” he said
She laughed, “I love how you don’t even see what it does to you.”
“Hey, I’m not the one painting rooms and polishing sinks over and over.”
“Maybe you should try it.”
He laughed, “Maybe I should.”